Guilty
by Shmeowzow
Summary: Moments after Thane's passing, how can Shephard possibly cope? Just a little drabble about the worst day of us Krios lovers gaming lives. Not a lot of fics touch on this subject, and it pains me. Shephard, Thane, Vega.


_Just a short emotion-centric ficlet. I plan on adding to it a bit more in the future. I just feeI like the game obviously isn't able to fully explore Shepard's feelings after Thane's death, and its something I think about_ a_ lot. Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a comment_!

* * *

I walked out of that room and felt nothing. Numb as numb ever was. Rounding the corner, the main entrance slid open with a metallic hiss and I breezed through decontamination.

The noise in the lobby of Huerta was deafening; screams of terror, pain, defeat, and sorrow, coupled with the muted cry of a child in some unseen corner.

I tried not to focus on the various random conversations taking place as I passed by. I wouldn't have been able to fully process them anyways, with the boisterous, unrelenting ringing in my ears.

As the distance between myself and the elevator grew smaller, I did not allow my eyes to skirt to the right; to the pair of chairs in the corner with that magnificent view. One of them was _his _chair. I didn't look, but I knew they were there, and that was enough.

When the lift's doors hissed shut, I let out a long, haggard breath I hadn't even known I'd been holding onto. Back in that room with Kolyat, with the eyes of the Citadel upon me, I couldn't lose my shit, nor show any sign of the immeasurable pain that was sure to crack my soul wide open.

I should have forced him to come with me. I could have grabbed him by his stupid jacket and dragged him onto the Normandy. It was my fault he had to spend his last days wasting away in that empty hospital, alone and sick, while I was off saving the goddamned universe, instead of on my ship, with me, who loved him desperately.

He'd told me he wouldn't come because he needed "round the clock medical care." I had a med-bay better stocked than this entire fucking hospital and Karin, who was the most efficient physician in the whole fucking Alliance on my ship. I could have made him let me take care of him, but I didn't. I'd let him down.

This was all my fault not only because I took his refusal for an answer, but because he had been embarrassed enough by his disease that he hadn't wanted to feel like a freeloader on the Normandy; either that, of he didn't wanted me to see him wither away in the final stages of Kepral's. I didn't know which was worse.

Before I knew it I was crying, and not _just_ crying, but a mad hyperventilation-sobbing combo; and I was helpless to stop the oncoming storm. I felt so gripped by the pain that had escaped me not moments ago, that it felt like I may have been having a heart attack.

Panicking, I hit the emergency stop button on the elevator's control console. No one could see me like this. Not their precious Commander Shepard, savior of _everyone._ If they saw me like this, the public would lose their shit in a big way. If I couldn't hold my own shit together, why should they? More than that, it'd be a fiasco in the press; cause a fuss. I didn't need that right now.

I was a thought away from pinging Garrus, but quickly realized that I couldn't let my dearest friend see me like this either. It would hurt him; and besides, he was busy organizing the Holding Dock for the war refugees. They needed him more than I did.

There was only one other person I would allow to help. Hell, he'd had to babysit me while I was incarcerated, surely he could handle this. Surely. Before I changed my mind and passed out due to lack of oxygen induced by stubbornness, I pinged Vega.

His crackly reply via Omni-Tool sounded muffled, as if he'd been asleep. Good, he was still on the Normandy. "What up, Lola?"

I shook my head even though I knew he couldn't see me.

"James…huh…I-gak…need your-hic."

His tone turned from joking to deadly serious.

"Commander?! What's wrong, where are you?!"

I was trying to speak coherently; I _really _was, but I couldn't breathe through the sharp intakes of air my brain was trying to convince my body I needed via anxiety attack, or through the tears flowing like a waterfall into my mouth and nose.

"Come-hic…D24…huh-PLEASE!"

"I'll be right there."

My back slammed against the wall and each hand fell to its respective knee for support to keep me on my feet; but in the end gravity persevered, and I slid to the floor.

I must have lost a little time, because I was surprised by the persistent beeping originating from my Omni-Tool. It was James asking me if I could take the lift off of lockdown. I silently thanked him for taking discretion into consideration, and not trying to pry open the door or alerting anyone else.

When he rushed through that threshold, I couldn't have been happier to see him. My breathing had been slowly returning to normal since his ping had caught my attention, but my face was probably a goddamned mess.

If it was, James made no comment, only asked me what the hell happened and was I okay. I waved him off. "Not now, please. I'm not injured. Just get me back to my girl."

"You alright to walk?"

I needed to think about that one. When he saw me trying to push myself up, he quickly offered me a hand, which I gladly accepted.

"Alright, Lola, here's the deal. Wrap your arm around my waist and lean on me while we walk, and no frisky stuff, y'hear? I know how you are. Anyone asks, we just say you had a rough day and an even rougher night at Purgatory, comprende?"

I did as he instructed, nodding to convey I'd heard him. I was a little humbled by his help, to be honest. He hadn't asked questions, knew exactly what needed to be done, and was quick to come up with a solution. As we entered the elevator that would take us to my Normandy, garnering no small amount of incredulous looks on the way, I couldn't help but murmur, "I'm beginning to see why you were selected for N7."

Vega just laughed and held me up, like this was all some damned joke; the war, my helplessness, his N7 recommendation. And to him, maybe it was. Maybe he was onto something.

The next thing I remembered was sitting upright on my bed and hearing the soft hum of my aquarium just over the upbeat musical notes emanating from the stereo system on my bedside table.

I met Vega's eyes, and he motioned at my shirt. Nodding, I gave him permission to help me remove the garment. I was so tired now; raising my arms seemed like a greater strain than I could bear. "No looking at my boobs."

Hearing those words come out of my own mouth, I almost laughed. It sounded like more of a snarl.

"Yeah, yeah, Lola. I got nicer looking women than you at my disposal hanging up on the wall in mine and Esteban's bunk."

I snorted while he removed my pants and shoes with care. "I'm sure Cortez appreciates that."

"Hmph" was his only reply as he tucked me under my own covers like a mother hen.

There was a pretty pregnant silence that ensued as I stared at the ceiling of my cabin, feelling empty and numb once more, and he sat perched at the edge of my bed wondering what to say.

Finally, without looking at me, he asked me if I wanted to talk about what happened.

Did I want to talk about what happened? No. Not at all. I didn't even want to talk to myself about it, but he deserved an explanation after all he'd done for me.

Taking a deep breath, I did my best to give him at least part of one. "I…Uh. Yeah, so…"

There they were, the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, filling them up to the point that they almost spilled over my lower lids and out the corners. I was _trying_, godammit. I needed to tell him this; to tell someone. I couldn't hold onto this on my own. It was too much.

"T-thane is _fucking_ dead."

I had to pause as I inhaled the breath I'd been holding trying not to cry. Too late for that now.

"He died today, and it is absolutely my fault."

I didn't even bother raising my arms to wipe the river of tears soaking my pillow now away from my face.

Vega exhaled in a long hiss. "Shit, Lola. I'm sorry. I know you cared about him."

I started laughing then. Why, I had no fucking idea. Maybe because I was so cracked that laughing was the only response that my body thought made sense.

"I, uh, loved him, actually. I was in love with him, and now he's gone. I let him die in there."

Then James did something I wasn't expecting. Taking his shirt off, he used it to wipe away the ocean of tears and snot off of my face with care.

I just stared at him after that. I was tired, dehydrated, and my eyes were puffy and hurt entirely too bad. I didn't expect him to have anything to say, but he did; only after taking that nasty sweat, tear, and snot covered shirt and pulling it back over his head. I almost gagged.

"Look, Lola. You're a smart lady. I respect you more than anyone else I've ever met, even though I had to babysit your loco ass for 6 months for blowing up a mass relay. This isn't going to make you feel better; but you're stronger than that. You're strong and smart enough to know that there is nothing you could have done that would have given you more time with him, or change how and when he died."

I almost started bawling all over again. I knew he was right, the asshole. He always knew what to say; and then he kept going.

"That man died a hero. He died fighting to saving a council member; shit, the whole fucking citadel. But more importantly, he died saving _you._ He didn't die wasting away in a hospital bed from some disease. He got a true hero's death, and that's what he deserved."

I was speechless, holding my breath and trying not to truly feel any of the pain that was wrapped around my heart and mind like ivy, brought to life by his words; the truth. I was also a little humbled again by the fact that he had known what was going on all along without telling me. He had waited until i was ready to voluntarily speak about my own personal tragedy.

"Now get some sleep. And when you wake up, you better wash your goddamned face. I ain't about to be lookin' at that shit all day."

He winked at me before leaving the room, and all I could think before letting myself drift off was "I can't believe he put that nasty shirt back on."


End file.
